Things work out just as they should. To paraphrase verses from King James on this Sunday evening before the Lenten Season, the Lord works in mysterious ways. It’s actually a good thing that my up-close vision is blurry. I don’t really want to see the stray random hairs apparently growing on my upper lip. I don’t see them at all unless I’m in Arkansas in my mother’s bedroom where for some unknown reason she has a magnifying telescope mirror making even brainwaves visible. I avoid that mirror. It’s a crazy fun house mirror exposing future flaws and skin damage not yet visible to the normal naked eye. She loves that mirror.
When I was at the nail salon a few weeks ago, Na asked, “You want wax?” “No, my eyebrows are fine.” These people are the absolute best at cross-selling. They have no shame whatsoever. If someone peeps inside the salon, but decides the wait looks too long and turns around to leave, the owner will run the customer down in the parking lot, dragging her back inside. “Only one minute you wait! Only one minute! You sit there,” then they all begin to chatter and point at each other, forcing the trapped customer into a huge lazyboy-like spa chair where she will sit in shock for at least another 20 minutes. These nail people make me feel guilty if I don’t spring for the callous cream – an extra buck – like the whole pedicure is a total waste without it. “Nhแปฏng phแปฅ nแปฏ da trแบฏng cรณ giรก rแบป!” Hmmmm. I don’t need the callous cream. And I don’t need an eyebrow wax.
Na glanced at my eyebrows which were totally hidden by my bangs anyway, and continued, “What about you mustache? You want wax?” “No! I don’t have a mustache!” Do I? This was all a ploy to make whatever baby-fine, invisible blonde hairs I might have grow thicker and darker forcing me into a mustache waxing routine. I knew that trick. Or maybe I just couldn’t see it – maybe I did have a mustache? I would not start waxing my lip no matter what crop starts growing there. Not unless Kelsey tells me I need to, of course.
Na glanced at my eyebrows which were totally hidden by my bangs anyway, and continued, “What about you mustache? You want wax?” “No! I don’t have a mustache!” Do I? This was all a ploy to make whatever baby-fine, invisible blonde hairs I might have grow thicker and darker forcing me into a mustache waxing routine. I knew that trick. Or maybe I just couldn’t see it – maybe I did have a mustache? I would not start waxing my lip no matter what crop starts growing there. Not unless Kelsey tells me I need to, of course.
Why on earth would a woman ever marry a younger man? Demi Moore, for instance, is 15 years older than Ashton. Is it an ego boost? forbidden fruit? someone to boss around? to make Bruce Willis jealous? or true love? Regardless, what incredible pressure that must have been for Demi all those years! She must secretively be relieved that relationship is over. She had to know it was only a matter of time. He can clearly see her recently sprouted mustache, she cannot, he’s moving on. Good riddance – he’s grody anyway – I can still see well enough at any distance to know that. Wouldn’t she rather be with someone who was actually alive when she appeared on General Hospital and St. Elmo’s Fire?
According to an article in the journal Demography, a woman who marries a younger man (by at least 7 years) has a 20% greater mortality rate than if she were with a man the same age. It’s all that stress from waxing. Just say NO!
talya
Musical Pairings:
Frankie Avalon, “Beauty School Drop-Out”
John Parr, “St. Elmo’s Fire”
“This mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.” Albus Dumbledore
talya
Musical Pairings:
Frankie Avalon, “Beauty School Drop-Out”
John Parr, “St. Elmo’s Fire”
“This mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.” Albus Dumbledore
Hahaha! Those nail salon ladies are excellent at cross-selling! They always ask about my mustache. I’m about to start waxing my whole face. ๐
haha! Just say No!
Well, hal-leeee-looo-yah! That’s ONE THING I don’t have to worry about! I’ve been shaving my own ‘tache for 20 years! That’s why they prolly don’t ask me if I want wax anymore AND why they call me an OLD lady cause they see wrinkles instead of hair! Lmbo. Love love love your salon blogs!
Since my husband Craig doesn’t see as well as he once did, he swears he doesn’t see my mustache. He says it’s Gods way of watching over and protecting the little people. That, and a pair of tweezers works for me. : )